


to leave a religion

by poolapool



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Fix-It Fic of some sort, M/M, but only for richard - maybe?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23116606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poolapool/pseuds/poolapool
Summary: Dionysus revels in his followers, and Apollo arrives with sweet melodies to lull one away.Or,An old friend from high-school resurfaces. Richard's in his initial periods of suspicion that something was definitely wrong with his friends. And he begins to see a glimmer of a chance of actually escaping Julian's class.
Relationships: Richard Papen/Original Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> In any case, I was reading The Secret History and I was like, huh, *inserts oc from my own original story* what if?
> 
> Basically, Richard's friend turns up, Richard is surprisingly happy to find an old friend during the mess of this all. And things begin to change.

For all those messy, frayed at the edges memories of mine, this was one of the minority I could remember with perfect vision. It was the only memory I could think of positively, both in the moment and of as right now. And I thank him, profusely, that he was visiting my college when he did. That he stood there, taller than I remembered, but with the face I remembered so fondly. Out of all the people in California (which was a very large place) I could care less to remember with a good sort of fuzzy remembrance, he was certainly the exception.

He stood at the main entrance with a content look on his face, flipping through a pamphlet of Hampden College on one hand while his other hand held other pamphlets of a variety of other colleges. Many I identified as being in New York, Virginia, Washington, and etcetera. His clothes were formal and simple, a black suit with dark leather shoes, like he just attended an interview for a very important job. He was inquisitive as he stared up at the building and I realised that this man, a very old friend of mine, named Raymond, was real instead of a figment of my imagination.

I had opened my mouth to call for him, but he turned around and, as his sea-green eyes caught mine, beat me to it.

“Richard?”

His face was ever the same, the same tanned skin as I (or perhaps it was a bit darker, I wondered if he had spent his time at the beach more than at home over books). His hair was still that brilliant gold colour, swept to the side in a perfect slight curl.

“Raymond,” I said, and smiled despite the week’s events weighing heavily on my mind. “It’s been a while.”

He blinked once, twice, and smiled warmly at me, like I was a relief to see (much like how it felt to see him), “Yes, hasn’t it? You, uh, go here – don’t you?”

“Yes,” I answered, fumbling with words, watching as he walked down the steps toward me. “Yes, that I do. I’m studying Greek, mainly, amongst other things. Like French.”

“I remembered you having a great interest in Greek, I’m happy to see you pursuing what you like.” He nodded and we shook hands, my own smile wearing thin – the week certainly made doubt many things, continuing my studies in Greek being one of them. But I couldn’t escape and I, again, was filled with that regret of not heeding the warnings from the beginning of the semester.

I cleared my throat, “Are you thinking of applying here?”

“Student exchange, actually. Went around the country a bit, looking for a good place for it.” he waved his other pamphlets. “I was interested with Hampden's psychology program, my father knows the professor well.”

If it weren’t for the mention of his father, I would have found that the idea of finding Professor Roland’s teachings interesting would be the most surprising thing. But no, what was most surprising was the ‘father’ aspect – for Raymond was an orphan all throughout his life. From elementary to high school. But to hear he had found a father (or was found by one, rather), made me smile. I was happy for him, he always was a kind person and he deserved a family.

“I hope he’s been good to you.” I said, genuinely glad for him.

His eyes widened in realisation, “Oh! I didn’t tell you or write to you about this – I'm sorry. It's been difficult keeping up with old friends. But yes, it was no easy thing to get used ti. But I’m very happy, he has other children, adopted them too in a way. I’m very close to them, they’re a very diverse bunch of people. Especially, I… our…”

As he trailed of, I smiled out of amusement, “Is there a mother, too?”

He turned red in embarrassment, lips curling happily, “Yes. I’m – I’m very happy. They’ve given me the chance to go to college, encouraged me to broaden my horizons by technically attending more than one college. Hampden was my last stop and, I think, my final decision.”

I nodded, looking up the building with a sense of remorse and the mutual excitement Raymond felt. I began to get lost in my thoughts before I finally came to my senses, looking back to Raymond with embarrassment.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to get so sidetracked.”

“It’s alright, you had a thoughtful look about this place. It must mean a lot to you, huh?” he said, “Say, Richard, I haven’t seen you in goodness knows how long – what do you think about getting lunch together? My treat.”

I didn’t need to think much about the answer, my want to getaway from things still quite fresh.

“Sure,” I said and wondered if he’d take me to some fast food restaurant nearby, like we used to back home – if any of us had the spare cash that is.

But, to much of my surprise, he led me to the restaurant I found myself with Bunny during those few couple of weeks I had arrived at Hampden. Where we had spent such copious amounts of our time and Henry’s money. I wondered, for a moment, if he had expected me to pay (seeing I was dressed as I was) but I knew that Raymond knew me. Knew my family, my economic background, everything. And there it was, the fear of being known – a nakedness I had frequently forgotten ever since I arrived at Hampden. Content in being with the five I knew quite well, until these later developments came full swing.

So when I saw him paying for the bill, after ordering food and drinks for us both (the food had not come yet), and noticed how my stare lingered on the paper for longer than necessary – he cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said. “If you want more we can always order some, I did say it was my treat – I won’t let you starve.”

I shot him a pointed stare. Knowing it would communicate enough.

“Ah,” he said, closing up his wallet. “Well, my parents.”

I stared at him, taking better note of what he was wearing. Gucci. Raymond. Wearing Gucci.

“You know what,” I said, pausing to thank the waiter as he set the non-alcoholic cocktails down before us, “I’m going to speak plainly with you.”

“Oh?”

I looked around, making sure there was nobody who knew me there. It was so early in the afternoon, nobody had arrived just yet – save for a few nouveau rich gentlemen.

“You said you had other siblings, would that make you the oldest?”

He snorted, lifting his drink, as he got the gist of what I was trying to say, to his lips, “Absolutely not. I don’t know where I rank, maybe… eighth?”

I nearly spat out my drink, “How many children does your father have?”

“I had the same reaction,” he said, smiling in mirth, “Maybe… fifty? None are biological, mind you. I think, let me count… tere’s Ray, Rowell, Silver…”

As Raymond trailed off for a while, I began to wonder what kind of luck had found him. And although I did feel a twinge of jealousy, the mere memories of the kindness he expressed for me when I was still in high school were enough to stamp out any flicker of it.

That, and he looked incredibly handsome now.

I observed him as he counted off all 50 children, and realized something. He used to be so different, younger with a naivety to the world. Yet now – though he had no speck of age to his smooth skin – he looked older. His eyes tired, like they’ve seen the depths of something that I haven’t. And I knew of murder, or at least guessed of it. I had yet to confirm any of our class being involved _definitely_ with it. You’d think we shared that same tired look in our eyes, but just like the luck he found with a new family this was just another thing he had one-upped me about.

It was later on in my life that he told me, very vaguely, that he along with his forty nine other siblings were to be left with a very, very large sum of inheritance. Not just in money, but in land; as well as responsibilities.

“Do you remember when we watched that documentary about the coronation of the new queen of England?” he had asked me one day, when I had sprouted wrinkles and him none.

“Yes,” I said, drinking the water with a single lemon wedge he set for me.

“Very similar to that.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He lifted his own glass to his lips, murmuring, “I wish I was.”

Looking back, Raymond was never one for alcohol. He had mocktails, sodas, juice, and sparkling water – but always turned his nose against alcohol. He was smart in that way, maybe a tad bit of a prude since even wine turned him off.

“So yes,” he said, snapping me out of my reverie and calling me back to the present moment, “Fifty, me included.”

“And you’re all educated?”

He nodded.

I hummed, jealousy returning, “A rich father.”

“A good man,” he nodded, "above all."

“And the mother?”

He smiled a tight-lipped smile, “She didn’t exactly want us at first, she has said to us of her own accord that she has issues regarding commitment.”

“Oh,” I said, faltering, “Are you sure it’s alright to tell me this?”

“She’s grown fond of us now, and besides – we have no secrets worth keeping,” he said. “Their positions grant them that.”

“Which are?”

“Philanthropists, deans of my current college as well as professors in it.” he said, “A lot of people like them, too. They’re smart and know a lot of connections. Mostly involved in education, though.”

“What college?” I asked.

“Hawkin’s College.”

My eyebrows went up in surprise, “Oh.”

Hawkin’s was an exclusive college located near New York that was situated in some remote island not too far off the coast. Their students always had a 100% rate of getting high-ranking jobs, some say it’s due to the school’s genius teaching, predisposed genius students, or bribery. I didn’t know much, but hearing Raymond’s story gave plausibility to three of those thoughts – perhaps no bribery. He wasn’t of that sort. So achingly perfect, but I knew he was hiding something as well.

“I’m lucky,” he said, just in time for our main course to come. Salmon for both of us with a side of greens and a baked potato, a lemon wedge as well.

He thanked the waiter, who I realised had served me and Bunny all those months ago. He was well pleased with Raymond, but stared at me blankly with thinly veiled annoyance.

Raymond caught on and eyed me, waiting for the waiter to leave before asking, “Something happen?”

I shrugged, “A friend brought me here once, didn’t turn out so perfectly.”

“Oh,” he said. “Is the scholarship treating you well?”

“Raymond, you know me,” I leaned forward, whispering, truthfully, and it ached me to do so. You could say I liked Bunny, Henry – the lot of them, but I was getting tired. All I wanted right now was to confide in a person outside of that sphere. “You know I can’t pay for this. He invited me, thought I could pay, and tried to leave it up to me for the bill. We had to telephone another mutual friend for help.”

“Ah,” he said, visibly worried. “I see.”

“Don’t look at me like that.” I said, trying to wave the matter off. Realising just how open I was with him, with anyone really – having spent most of my time lying to the others.

“You’re an old friend of mine, Richard,” he said. “It’s normal to worry.”

Maybe I wanted to be honest again.

“Yes, well, he’s my friend.” I said, not knowing for sure if I was being honest or lying.

He raised an eyebrow and said, “Friend’s don’t do that.”

“You don’t know him.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t, but I do know you.”

We dropped the topic after, and normally I would feel squeamish talking to someone after having treaded such a fine line – but Raymond was Raymond. Gold coast personified, even more so than before, with cufflinks made of actual gold now. We flitted from topic to topic, I talked to him about Greek, French, what I was learning, and he drank it all in, and, surprisingly, I found that he talked about psychology in a very engaging way. Far more than Dr Roland ever could.

He ordered ice cream for us after and we told each other funny stories, reminisced about the very few happy moments we had in California. I slipped into how I used to speak back then, using ‘totally’ more often than I would with any of my peers in class. It wasn’t as if I hated home, California that is, but I was much too prideful to admit that I think I made a mistake in choosing to seclude myself from the outside world.

Raymond was here though. Ray. Like a ray of light from the cracks of this bleak, closed-off, and dark room I had boxed myself in.

It was barely two in the afternoon when Raymond suggested we had back, offering to walk me. I would’ve said no, but I didn’t want to leave just yet. Going back felt, of all things, frightening. Almost claustrophobic. If I was going to return, I might as well do it not alone.

We talked some more about things that interested us. Literature, history, and at some level (for me) I asked more about psychology. Raymond talked about his travels, what he saw on the road and about his family life. Then he asked about mine and, seeing that we were walking alone on the streets with the sun out – looking like just two friends who were walking for the fun of it, I told him everything. It felt good to lay it out in the open, with a person who wouldn’t judge – at most he’d make irritable faces of worry.

At last we stopped in front of the gates of Hampden, he said a car was waiting for him at a vacant apartment just a bit down the road.

“You can’t just call it here?”

“Walking is good for you,” he said. “Helps clear the mind, at least that’s what psychology tells me. I could give you some more helpful advice.”

“With everything going on, I think I’d need it.” I said, sparing the large, looming buildings of Hampden, covered with ivy, a look. It looked so gloomy in the morning when I first saw Raymond, but now, bathed in the sunlight – it didn’t look so bad.

_“Morning light can make the most vulgar things tolerable.”_

Henry had said that, and I thought, for a brief romantic moment, that Raymond could be that light. I knew getting out of Julian’s class was impossible, but he could be a reprieve. And I knew I was going to use him for it.

He hummed, “Richard, listen, if I do get in I’ll be renting out the apartment down the road with four other friends. I’ll send you a letter if I do. Two weeks from now, come over and have dinner with us.”

“Does ‘us’ have names?” I asked.

“Sure they do,” he said. “but you'd have to be there to ask them for it. Don’t worry, they don’t bite – bark, maybe.”

“You talk about your friends like they’re dogs.”

“And I am one too,” he said, grinning like it was some funny inside joke he had with them. And like with Henry, Bunny, Charles, Camilla, and Francis, I was left out of the thick of things.

I arched an eyebrow.

“I bark, too.” He answered.

“The Raymond I know does not bark,” I said, getting rather annoyed.

“Maybe Raymond has changed,” he said, quieter. “No, he has changed. That I know for sure.”

And all at once I wanted to take it back.

“I’ll hopefully see you in two weeks, Richard, it’d be nice to study together again.” he said, meaning every word. “Today was fun.”

I smiled, despite how gloomy I had made things, even in the garish sun, “I hope so.”

“I hope so, too,” he said, bowing his head. “I’ll see you.”

“Bye,” I said and watched as he walked off, the heat of summer growing thicker – the vision of him walking off moving like waves, the sun roaring in the sky. As if it were screaming at me to chase after him, modern day Apollo with the sea-green eyes and blonde hair.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richard goes out for lunch, meets new friends, dodges a bullet, and a subtle foreshadow is dropped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for everyone's interest in this story! I hope you're all healthy and well during this virus, and hope this chapter will keep you entertained in the meantime! :)

Returning back to class, as the first week ticked by, was excruciating. It was not so before. I hated how I felt, the slow realization that dawned on me – that I was beginning to miss a life before all of this. It was akin to getting a cold during middle school, you’d be happy you were off school, sure, but when you suddenly found it hard to breathe – your nostrils all clogged up – you suddenly missed the most simplest of things. Like breathing, usually taken for granted.

I spent more time on my Greek and French homework, withdrawing myself far more than usual from my peers, as I found myself failing to catch up with them. Not academically, but socially. They would continue to sneak around, shifty looks at one another, and refusing to even entertain my indirect suggestions of an answer as to what exactly was going on. The thought of what-ifs picked at me like a bad itch, a small pain that you’d want to swat away. I would’ve scratched that itch, but I had other things on my mind.

Now that I think back, I was glad I never pushed for more.

It was on Raymond, of course, and my frequent drifting into the deep canals of my memories. Of Plano and the short, if not sweet, time I spent with him. I couldn’t remember too much of Raymond, only that we were friends when we could. Meaning that on days when I feared my father, didn’t want to hear the parents bickering, I would tell him and he’d hide me in his foster home (the temporary ones, lasting about a week as he was handed around the neighborhood like some sad hand-me-down toy – at least he described it like that). Sometimes we’d end up getting the same job, working together on a field, and then going to some fast-food joint with our leftover money (most of mine went to savings to buy those expensive shirts and tweed jackets).

Raymond would save his, he said, to run away someday.

He loved the idea of it with that plainness. There was no need to compare it to historical texts, classical or psychological, he said, in the simplest of ways, that he needed to go. And when we graduated high school, he did go – off to places I didn’t know. Not that it mattered much, we were, after all, only friends when we could. Life had a way of getting between that.

I wondered if he was trying to make up for lost time, or if he was going to try and cement our friendship from ‘friends when possible’ to – well, it’d be cheesy to say aloud. Or write about.

Then another week passed and I was still withdrawing from everyone.

“Richard,” Henry had said one day, approaching me after the last hour with Julian. “Would you like to eat out with us tonight?”

“Oh,” I said, about to agree when I remembered that I would be receiving Raymond’s letter that night. “I’m sorry Henry, I’m waiting on something tonight. Maybe another time?”

He regarded me with curiosity, “Word from your parents?”

My eyes widened in surprise, “Gods no. What made you think that?”

He shrugged, “Richard, you never say much about yourself to us. And you’re being more of a recluse than you were before. I didn’t have much to go off of other than that.”

I was silent for a moment before answering, truthfully, “A letter. I’m waiting on a letter from an old friend from high school.”

“I see.” He said, nodding, “I believe this is your first mention of your life in high school with me.”

I offered up a small smile, “He’s coming for a student exchange with some of his friends. I was thinking of offering up a tour, if they’d be up to it.”

“What are they studying?” Henry asked, looking away absentmindedly as he leaned against a bookshelf filled with thick books of translations of the Iliad – Latin, English, one in Chinese, Spanish, German, and others, and at the end was a small copy of Dante’s Inferno.

I paused, thinking on his question.

“I don’t know about his friends,” I said. “But Raymond said he was going to take psychology with Dr Roland. Imagine that.”

“Yes,” Henry said, sounding distracted. “A student exchange, for psychology in Hampden. From what university does he come from?”

“Hawkin’s.” I answered, taking Dante’s Inferno from the shelves. Turning it in my hand, absentmindedly, and wondering why it was so out of place. Julian kept certain things in a mess, yes, but never categorized books in such as a way. He’d throw them on the floor at times when needed, but never put them away in such a callous sort. I wondered if something was bothering him.

“Hawkin’s?” Charles’ voice echoed from across the room, juggling two piles of books in his hands, “That college from New York, right?”

“Do you need help, Charles?” I asked, walking over to where he stood.

“Oh yes,” he said. “Julian wanted me to organize the books. Could you set them down over there please?”

I gestured to the bookshelf Henry had leaned against.

“Oh, have you not gotten to this section yet?” I asked, setting the books down where he’d pointed.

“I have,” he said, confused. “What, is something out of place?”

After making sure the pile of books were stacked properly (in fear of any falling), I picked up the copy of Dante’s Inferno and handed it to him.

“This was at the end of the row of analyses of the Iliad,” I said.

“Oh,” he accepted the book, suddenly going still. “Right, my mistake.”

“Yes,” Henry echoed. “A simple, small mistake. No worries, right Richard?”

“None at all. It’s just a book, I mean.” I murmured, watching the way the two refused to make eye contact. “In any case – I’ll be going. I have some homework and a letter to wait for.”

“From your friend at Hawkin’s?” Charles murmured, turning the book, just as I did, in his hands.

“And his friends too,” I said. “A whole lot of them coming in soon, possibly. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Goodbye.” Charles said, sparing me a smile.

“To tomorrow,” Henry nodded, not looking at me. Busy with a book in his hands.

* * *

Finding that the letter had been slipped into my letter box, I found myself equally anxious and excited to find if I’d be able to see Raymond again. Just as I took it out, I found myself opening it and quickly reading it through.

_Dear Richard,_

_I’m happy to say that me and my friends have all been accepted for a student exchange at Hampden! I’m going to be in the psychology department, I’m so excited! Sorry that I had to send you a letter in such an old fashioned way, I would have phoned but I’m not quite sure how they do things like that at Hampden. Letters are always a bit more reliable, right?_

_In any case, this message should probably get to you around a day before I move in. Hopefully it’s Thursday when you’re reading this, if it’s alright with you – why don’t you come by to our place just down the road on Saturday for lunch? I’d love to introduce you to my friends! My friend, Karden, will be cooking for us – he makes the best food. June will be there to play us some music too, she’s a wonderful musician. Just do watch out for paint on the ground, Roe’s been decorating the walls with her murals (she makes beautiful art) and Elijah might have some of his chemical knick-knacks all over the floor – a genius is always a bit cluttered it seems. We might not be getting our deposit back, now that I think about it…_

_In any case, they’re really good people though._

_Just… be careful when you get inside. Still, I hope you come – lunch will be at around eleven. Please wear whatever you like, I’ll be waiting! See you then, old friend!_

_With care, Raymond._

Piqued by the idea of what sounded like a psychology major, a chemistry major, a music major, a fine-arts major, and a… cooking major living under the same roof, I began to imagine what they all looked like.

Raymond was a handsome man and if I knew anything, attractive looking people either attracted people just as equally as attractive or people who mooched off of them. The other four were paying rent, it seemed, alongside Raymond so I came to the idea that they were just as good-looking. And as strange as the connection was, in retrospect, I remember Bunny – who was just as attractive as Henry, Charles, Francis, and Camilla, but had this awful sort of thing in him.

Though at the time, I had no idea of that.

Tucking the letter away in my desk, I decided that yes, I would go for lunch. If not for my old friend, then at least to get away from the situation in class that was getting progressively more tense by the minute.

On Friday, when I sat in for my classes, I did not miss Bunny’s strange remarks regarding being owed money from Henry or of him making strange, morbid jokes. Henry’s stone-cold mask would break every once or so, looking visibly stressed at such jokes. Which, truth be told, were morbid enough to set me off as well. I did not think much of it and kept mostly to myself and wondered, very deeply, what on Earth I’d wear to lunch on Saturday.

For the entire time I spent at Hampden, I’d been dressing myself in tweed jackets and leather shoes and all the very un-Californian (if that could be a word) ways I’d dressed before. Raymond hadn’t commented so outright on it, probably because we were old friends or perhaps out of politeness.

“Is the scholarship treating you well?” he had asked me.

After assuring him I was still who I was, I worried how his friends would judge me. I assumed that they were from Hawkins, which was extremely difficult to get in because tuition was free.

Yes, free. Subsidised by the fact you were a genius, or as some gossip would call it: a ‘Chosen One’.

They would probably be shrewd people, who were going to be quick to see through me. Judge me, because they were smarter than I, or – perhaps – a small part of me wondered if they were smart enough to not judge.

The idea was extremely stressful.

“Richard,” Julian called, drawing my attention from my notebook to him. He looked concerned. “Are you with us?”

Looking around, I found myself caught in everybody’s confused and judgmental stares. I was always an attentive one at class, but thinking of meeting Raymond and his friend’s got to me a bit it seemed.

“Yes,” I said. “I was just taking notes.”

“Well could you answer this question for me then?” Julian said, leaning back, “What was the relationship between Dionysus and Apollo like?”

My mind quickly made the connections.

“The Greek gods Dionysus and Apollo are frequently painted to be opposites, Dionysus of irrationality and revelry and Apollo is of logic and prudence. However, they have never been said or painted to be as enemies or rivals, if anything their two natures have always been consistently intertwined.”

“Very good,” he said, nodding and smiling at me appreciatively which still made my heart soar. “If anything, these two gods are two sides of the same coin. Both sons of Zeus, both gods of the creative arts, and yet they have never quarrelled in regards to their philosophies. But it does not mean they avoid each other, no – in fact, they spoke frequently. In regards to this dialectic, Nietzsche…”

I will admit, that to blend in with Julian’s class one had to be equally as rich in knowledge as they were in money. But Richard didn’t seem the sort to attract such people, and they were all paying rent _together_. Which meant I’d have to be intellectually on-guard around them.

* * *

Usually, I would have gone with Charles and Camilla for dinner on Friday night but truth be told I was so incredibly busy picking out clothes and wondering what I’d say when I met everyone. I thankfully got enough sleep, so I had no dark circles under my eyes and looked as fresh as I could. Which also came in handy, because I had to walk quite a bit to the apartment.

When I finally got there, I was met with the charming exterior of a two-story wooden home with a white porch and a bed of flowers and herbs flanking the walkway to the door. The entire thing was painted in evergreen with dark red mahogany accents. It’s windows were flung wide open, due to the heat of the afternoon, as white, translucent, and lacey curtains fluttered at the breeze. The smell of something sweet and savoury baking drifted in the warm air and I was busy thinking of what food awaited me (I had not eaten breakfast yet) that I almost missed the man by the window, carrying a freshly baked pie to cool at the window sill.

Our eyes caught each other and all I could think of was, when he smiled politely, how attractive he was as well.

Well, at least that confirmed part of my assumption regarding Raymond’s friends.

He had ashy hair, which usually would have been synonymous with being old, but his young face surprised me. Without a wrinkle on it, his skin was tanned (darker than Raymond’s) and his eyes were a light blue color. His thick eyebrows were raised in surprise as his lips curled into a ‘Hello’.

“Are you Richard?” he asked, voice pleasant to hear.

“Oh, yes – that I am!”

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I don’t think we heard you knock?” he frowned, tilting his head away to shout at someone inside, “Roe?!”

“What?!” a voice replied, feminine but distressed, “I’m busy!”

“I swear to God – did you not answer the door? There’s a whole person waiting there!”

“What?!” she shouted back and I could hear quick footsteps heading toward the door, “I didn’t hear anything!”

Immediately feeling flustered, I tried to speak out to explain, “Oh no – I didn’t actually knock yet – ”

Without letting me finish, the door flung wide open to reveal a tall woman wearing a green hoodie covered in paint splatters. Her blonde hair was pulled up into a bun (messy, with pieces of it sticking out and coated in paint) and her green eyes were wide in warmth and excitement, lips stretched into a grin.

“You must be Richard!” she said, “I’d shake your hand or give you a hug if it weren’t for the fact that I’m in… well, coated in paint right now. My name’s Roe, but you probably heard Karden over there say it, he’s the one making the food for us. Please, come in!”

“Ah,” I began, still flustered and surprised at this person beaming brightly at me. “Yes, thank you.”

Stepping inside, my nose was assaulted by the smell of paint, sweet food, and perfume. The smell of orchids and jasmine permeated throughout the house, coming from the potted flowers all around the house. The walls were finished in half-done murals, Roe having climbed right back up on her ladder and lying flat on her back to complete a fresco for the ceiling with a mechanism. Reminding me very much of Michelangelo’s techniques.

Looking up, you’d find a half done painting of a sky with powder blue clouds and flowers, figures lounging across – faces unrecognisable, since they were still in process of being painted.

Karden emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of cakes on one hand and a plate of grilled beef in the other, setting it on the table. He wore a thin black turtleneck with the sleeves rolled up and grey slacks just as I (we even had similar shoes), catching me eye he smiled as he untied his apron.

“I think we bought shoes from the same store,” he said. “Michael’s, right?”

I laughed good-heartedly, “Yes, I think so.”

“You have an eye for fashion, my friend.” He said, pulling out a chair, “come and sit down, I’ll have all the food out soon – everyone will be out soon.”

“Oh,” I said and sat down to be polite, “Do you need any help?”

“You’re the guest here, please don’t – if anything, Roe should be helping me here!”

“Busy!” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Can you at least not dangle on top of our guest like that? And change your clothes!” he sighed before going back inside the kitchen.

Despite my efforts at trying to be underdressed, I could not shake the feeling I stood out still like a sore thumb. I wore a simple white button down (short sleeved, because of the weather), grey slacks, and a pair of leather golden-buckled shoes.

At least, that was what I thought until another woman descended from the stairs. Dressed in a silver silk blouse, dark blue slacks, and what seemed to be a navy blazer with golden cufflinks hooked over her arm – she exuded an air of authority, especially with her hair pulled into a low bun save for her bangs. She had skin as dark as Karden with dark brown eyes staring pointedly at Roe. I instantly stood up to greet her, mesmerised by how she moved.

“Roe,” she said, voice cool and concentrated and – was she wearing heels? “Get down and clean up now. We have a guest.”

“Ughhh.” She groaned, finally conceding, “Fine.”

“Thank you,” the other woman smiled before turning to me, extending a well-manicured hand for me to shake, “You must be Richard, my name’s June Kahlia – it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Richard Papen.” I said, shaking her hand, “The same to you.”

“Raymond and Elijah should be down a moment while Roe finishes cleaning up,” she said, pulling out a chair to sit beside me. “Karden should be done now.”

“That I am!” he said, carrying the pie I saw cooling by the window sill and setting it before us. “Blackberry pie, berries picked right from our garden at the back. I know they’re your favorite, June.”

“Aw,” she grinned. “Thanks Karden.”

“Anytime, June.” He smiled in turn, removing his kitchen mittens, and sitting across June and next to me, “Now for a proper introduction, my name is Karden Del Viento but you can just call me Karden.”

I shook his hands as well, “Richard Papen, nice to meet you Karden. I heard from Raymond you’re both going to Hampden for an exchange program?”

“Yes,” Karden said. “I’m a med student, planning on becoming a brain surgeon. Hampden has a great program for neuroscience.”

“And I’m in music,” June said. “A lot of the alumni here are well accredited, which is why I chose it. Raymond told us you’re a permanent student in Hampden, what program are you in?”

“Oh, Greek actually.”

June’s eyes lit up, “Oh how interesting! Does Julian teach you?”

“Yes,” I said, surprised. “Do you know him?”

“I’ve met him once before, it was only briefly at a seminar for Greek literature a few years ago but I remembered him saying he taught at Hampden as well – or was he planning to at that time…? I can’t really remember.”

“Small world, isn’t it?” a voice from up the stairs said, revealing themselves to be Raymond. “Hello Richard.”

I smiled, excited to see him, “Hello Raymond.”

“Good to see that you accepted my offer for lunch,” he grinned, two other people following behind him down the stairs to sit at the table. “I see you’ve met June and Karden, so sorry for the delay.”

“Oh it’s no problem,” I said. “Thank you for having me.”

He nodded, “These are my other two friends, Elijah and Roe.”

When he gestured to Roe, I almost did not recognize her. Instead of her messy disposition, she sat there with her hair half down, the other half pulled into a small ponytail behind her. Her face was clean of any paint as were her clothes, replaced by plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

“What?” she smiled funnily, catching me stare at her for too long. “I cleaned up good, didn’t I?”

I scrambled for words, “Um, I – I didn’t mean to be rude –”

“Yes, yes, Roe, we all know you’re very attractive.” The other man, named Elijah, laughed, “She was head cheerleader in high school you see, it’s normal to stare.”

Roe rolled her eyes before turning toward me, “Sorry, we didn’t necessarily meet at the best moment – I get really immersed in my work sometimes. At expense of all things. My name is Rosaline, Rosaline Juliano – but you can just call me Roe.”

“Or Rose,” Karden sneakily said.

“No.” Roe shot Karden a glare.

“And my name’s Elijah Rothwell,” the other man said, who reminded me very much of Henry in all the opposite ways. Like him, he was tall and well-built with dark black hair. But Elijah’s hair was curly and long, reaching all the way to his waist with it partially pulled into a ponytail. He had pale skin and dark mysterious eyes. The way he smiled at me made me feel strange.

“Please to meet you both,” I said. “My name’s Richard Papen.”

“Now that everyone is well-acquainted with each other,” Raymond smiled. “Let’s dig in, shall we?”

“Oh yes!” Karden said, “I hope you’re okay with what I’ve made so far, Richard. Wait. Is there anything you’re allergic to?”

“No, no, I’m not allergic to anything.” I assured, “The food looks great, Karden.”

“Did you not ask him, Raymond?” June asked, “In the letter?”

“I… admit I should have asked regardless, but from what I remembered you weren’t ever allergic to anything right, Richard?”

“No.”

“See?” Raymond smirked at June, “I have very good memory of my friends.”

She shot him a playful stare, “That’s still a debatable topic.”

“He forgot all our birthdays this year,” Karden explained for me, cutting me a piece of the grilled beef. “Was not a fun affair.”

When Raymond opened his mouth, June was quick to speak.

“Don’t even try explaining yourself, you were, again, ‘too busy’ with work.”

Raymond frowned, grumbling to himself, which I found very funny to see him sulk like a child.

“But Richard’s a special friend, isn’t he?” Roe mentioned, the very idea stopping me in my tracks to look up toward Raymond.

“Of course he is,” Raymond said, eyes focused on mine with a small smile on his lips. “Richard’s one of my oldest friends.”

Taken aback by the sudden gesture, I immediately felt self-conscious and looked around me – imagining the jealous, perhaps resentful looks on their faces. But instead all I saw were very hopeful smiles.

“Uh,” was all I could say wiping my mouth with a napkin, trying to hide the red blossoming on my cheeks.

“How’s the food, Richard?” Elijah asked.

“Oh, really good – you did fantastic, Karden.” I said, trying to steer the topic away. “When I got Raymond’s letter talking about all of you, I assumed you were a culinary student.”

“A culinary student?” Karden asked, amused.

“I’m more surprised Raymond wrote about us to you,” Roe said, half-serious and half-joking.

“I like talking about my friends,” Raymond shrugged, taking a bite from his meal. “What’s so bad about that?”

“What’d he say though?” Roe pushed, green eyes eager for gossip.

Catching Raymond’s eyes, I saw the panic in them as he averted his gaze from me. His own cheeks turning slightly pink.

I smiled, “He said that Karden was the best cook he’s ever known, Roe makes beautiful art, June’s an incredibly musician, and that Elijah’s a genius. And that you’re all very kind people.”

“No I didn’t – ”

“Oh you _fucking_ sap!” Roe laughed, hitting him on the shoulder hard. “I knew you liked us!”

June grinned, “You really think I’m a good musician, Raymond? _D’awww_ , what happened to the man who criticized every note I played a year ago?”

“And the man who called me a crazy scientist?” Elijah drawled.

“What character development.” Karden said, masking his smile behind the cup he drank from, “the hubris of man, finally defeated.”

“Richard!” Raymond stressed (although I could tell he wasn’t entirely serious), face thoroughly red now as he covered his cheeks with his hand. “I have a reputation!”

“You pulled that,” I paused, to get my voice to imitate Raymond’s deeper one, “ _Richard’s my oldest friend schtick_ , don’t come after me for this.”

“ _You are a terrible musician, June_ ,” June joined me in the imitation. “ _I’ll teach you what real music’s like_.”

“ _You have no idea how to handle color theory, Roe, give me that paint brush –_ ” Roe snorted, “Rich, coming from a guy who still doesn’t know how to operate a phone.”

I had to laugh. That explained the letter.

“Oh my God,” Raymond covered his face entirely now, laughing embarrassedly. “My reputation.”

“Richard,” Elijah grinned. “You knew him when he was in high school, right? Have you any embarrassing stories about Raymond?”

“Did he ever go streaking?” Roe gasped, “I heard rumors!”

“I hear he punted a teacher once,” June smiled, sipping her water.

“Oh Jesus.” Karden laughed, turning to me, “Are any of them true?”

Lifting my cup to my lips, I stared at Raymond and smiled deviously. He couldn’t help but smile either, finding the entire thing hilarious as well.

“The streaking part, Roe?” I said, “Partly true.”

“Oh my God.” She said, “Spill. Now.”

And that was how we spent the entire day. As I embarrassed Raymond, he embarrassed me with my own poor tales. Of how I had dined and dashed on a couple of occasions, got pass-out drunk in a number of parties (somehow having stolen the host’s entire collection of collectible game cards, which I still had back at California), and nearly had to go streaking with Raymond himself. Then June would talk about how, despite the warmth and close-knit feel of their circle, there was a time where they hated each other’s guts and wanted nothing more than to see each other dead.

When I asked what happened to change it, she only smiled and said that something happened between all their parents that made them realize that – whatever problems they had – it wasn’t their fault. Faulty upbringing and absent parents were to blame, and that whatever hate they fostered for each other was more of a distaste of seeing themselves reflected in each other.

“And then we went to therapy,” Roe said.

“And boy did we go to therapy.” Karden laughed.

How strange it was to me, to be in such a new circle of people and feel accepted into it. They were all so strangely open about their past, like it truly was some far away part of themselves. And as I spent time with them, I began to feel like Hampden was as far away as I could imagine – that my class no longer existed, and I was going to make choices as they did when they first entered. And for those hours I spent with them that Saturday, I truly felt like everything I had experienced the past couple of months – nearly dying, spending copious amounts of time with Henry, Charles, Camilla, Francis, and Bunny – were far, far away.

But as the sun began to set and Raymond offered to drive me back to my dorm, I understood that I needed to go back to reality.

Even as daylight began to disappear, the conversation carried on in the car – June, Elijah, Karden, and Roe reluctant to part with me as well. When we finally arrived at the building, they rolled down the window and waved goodbye to me, telling me to meet them at the cafeteria on Monday. I waved back just as enthusiastically, saying that I’d be there for sure.

As they drove away, I stared after them for a moment before going to walk into the house. But I stopped short, seeing Bunny leaning against the doorframe – surprised to see me.

“Bunny,” I said. “What’s wrong?”

“I was looking for you, Richard,” he said. “I thought you were in your room, the lights were on.”

“Oh.” I said, looking up to my window, puzzled. “I swore I turned them off though. But I’m here now.”

“Ah,” he said, fiddling with something in his hands. “It’s… never mind. I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, it’s late right now.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, wondering what had killed his usually upbeat attitude. Also the fact that Bunny, Bunny Corcoran, just called 7 PM late. “Are you alright?”

“Fine, just a bit tired.” He sighed, running his hand through his blonde hair, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Richard.”

I frowned, wanting to ask – since for a couple of weeks now, I had been kept quite out of the loop from everyone else, “If you say so.”

“Goodnight, Richard.”

“Goodnight.”


End file.
